Standing on the sidelines,
watching life go by,
feet get stuck in a mire’s muck,
when I never give a try.
Tag: poem
The Troubles by L. M. Montes
Before me rolled the ocean
in to shore then ran away,
tis like a problem,
washing over,
then gone to bug another day.
There stood on wooden steps
my thoughts aloft and set adrift,
a noise behind me niggled,
with crescendo starting in
to send me to an early crypt.
But I moved past in safety’s arms,
ignoring evil’s threats,
the noise rolled in,
then ran away,
for me it did not get.
Love Connection by L. M. Montes
In my dream you held me tight,
but only for a moment’s flight,
then I woke,
you went away,
perhaps to visit another day.
I took your hand and speared your eyes,
connections made that never dies,
then we let go,
but hearts delighted,
perhaps the start of love ignited.
Waves of Time
Waves–
Keep coming–
So we have to change with the waves of time,
As the waves approach, we have to react.
Enchanting Red Roses: A Garden Path of Sweet Memories by L. M. Montes
Along the garden path stands a trellis of red roses,
sweetest candied scents waft with buoyant wings,
senses swell,
memories dwell,
but future delight proposes.
Dive In by L. M. Montes
Dive in, to the words,
paint them using your mind
as they travel through your eyes,
plummet down your neck,
across to each shoulder,
float along your arms
to fingertips,
brushing their way across
paper and screen,
and morphing stories
from idea to creative means.
Sound within a Sound by L. M. Montes
Over the roar of the ocean
waves whisper,
over the screeching wind
gales speak,
over the clapping of leaves
birds sing.
Inner Run by L. M. Montes
A mist invaded within
my core to run
and keep on running,
shadows past lay
sunken low
in veiled realms unknowing.
Sprinkles of Peace by L. M. Montes
A beach swathed in varied light as time moves on–
mountains dressing themselves in snow with honored presence–
melodious music sprinkling peace from beaks of birds–
leaves on trees waving as wind rushes by–
a kiss caressing a cheek–
a hand holding the gentle and meek–
passion’s emotive gaze from eye to eye.
Mistaken by L. M. Montes
I strolled along in the park one day
enjoying a floral scene,
until a tap on my shoulder I felt
compelled me to turn around,
it was a man with reddened face
who hurled words with daggered grace,
I turned do leave but hit the ground
when me he tripped and there he dwelt,
“Sir, why do you have to be so mean,
I am not the person whose name you say.”
WRITE TIME AND AGAIN 